Butterfly surfers
Shy little butterflies, moving flecks of yellow green
Why do you play among the breaking waves? What could this mean?
Mostly you just taste the ground where the ocean meets the land
But when the wind and the waves are just right you do something grand
The first time I saw you flying just ahead of the waves
I thought the wind had caught you and the ocean would be your grave
But the wind was calm and the waves smooth and sleek
Dancing in the air just ahead of the waves, what is it that you seek?
Gathering in a small group just above a rolling wave
Riding down the cushion of air, could it be a thrill that you crave?
Fluttering down the curl of a forming tube that shoots out butterflies in a clap
Why would you take that risk, just in time escaping from the trap?
Could it be you seek the same thrill of the blond tan boys bobbing in the sea?
Could an insect play the same games as me?
Do they take a few minutes out of the hustle of their life, one summer long?
In his place would you take some time to play before your summer was gone?
Michael Hissom
(all right reserved)
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